100 Cups

The Truth...

2013-02-27T01:30:00.003-08:00

I suppose it's about time I told you all the truth...

Over the past 18 months, I've come damn near close to putting this project to rest. More than once. You might be wondering why I'd stop, only 28 cups in to a journey to 100. I spent a lot of time wondering the same thing, if I'm honest. In a recent conversation with my family, though, I found the answer.

In my heart, I've not been chasing a number. It seemed appropriate to set one when I started all this funny business. In reality though, I just felt then need to make this a finite journey. I needed something to reach for that could be measured. The truth of it is - this journey to meet strangers is anything but a finite one.

Along the way, I've asked myself (and others) a very simple question. 'Can a cup of tea change your life'? I had myself convinced that this was the questions for who's answer I should be seeking. The funny thing is, I'm quite sure I knew the answer before I started. After 28 cups of tea with 28 strangers, though - I was certain of it. The answer is, and always was yes.

When I set out on this journey, I wanted to know if meeting 100 strangers for nothing more than a simple conversation had the power to change my life. Would the people I met inspire me to take a new path? Would I inspire them? Could these conversations - these very organic meetings between two ordinary, everyday people - could they amount to something greater than the sum of their parts?

I can say without a doubt that I am a different person today than the one who sat down for the first cup in North London with a good fellow named Lee Allen (Lee's doing well, if you were wondering). Each of the 28 conversations I've had thus far, they've all had an effect. Each one has influenced me in some way; inspired me to do something different; provided affirmation to continue doing something the same.

And as life got busier and more hectic, I began to wonder why I continued to ask a question for which I already had the answer.

Some time passed, and I continued to consider, if I were to put all of this aside, how I should it? What would be the appropriate way to put an end to my journey, 72 cups from the goal I had set? Do I have a responsibility to explain myself to those who come here to read my stories? Or do I have the right to just pull the plug and let it all fade away?

And as I had begun to accepted that I might be done with it all, I had a realization...

In life - what does one do when they find the answer they've long been seeking?

Simple.

They find a new question to ask...

I may not know what that question will be just yet, but perhaps we can sit down for a cup of tea and figure it out, together...

What do you say?

Big In Belgium!

2012-11-18T15:55:00.004-08:00

Just when I had begun to believe that all of this had faded into obscurity - Belgium called. There still into it...

I received an email from a stranger a couple weeks back. She'd heard about this very blog in an article featured in Belgium's 'De Standaard Magazine' - an article I knew nothing about until I received the email. It's amazing to think that what started with a few strangers meeting for a cup of tea and a bit of awkward conversation in North London continues to reach the far corners of the globe. More amazing still to think that I am only 28 cups in.

Since the big move from London back to my home in Canada, it's been a job just settling back in to 'normal' life. And just as I'd began having tea with strangers as an escape from the inevitable pull of normalcy - it seems I've given in the pull once again. I guess that's okay sometimes, isn't it? We get stuck back in to routine. We become so content simply existing, that we forget how incredible life really is. Maybe what's most important is having the ability to recognize when that happens and adjust accordingly...

I've got more tea to drink now - more strangers to meet - and I'm excited about it. I guess I have Belgium to thank for that.

Thanks Belgium.

Now then - who's up for a cuppa?

This is why numbers don't matter.

2011-09-01T15:11:00.000-07:00

Each and every time I lose a follower on Twitter – I smile because that is one less person who didn’t care all that much in the first place...

I’m not exactly sure why, but I’ve always been weary of social networks. When MySpace took over the world – I avoided it like the plague. I was so against it, in fact, that my friends thought it would be fun to make an account for me – posting pictures, adding friends, and generally making me look silly.

I’ve changed a lot since then. I’m not ashamed to admit it. I’ve embraced the world of social media. I’ve connected with new friends and reconnected with old ones. I’ve updated my status once or twice. I’ve ‘liked’ pages, and commented on photos, and said happy birthday to people I haven’t seen in a long time.

A number of years ago, though, I learned something important about social networks, and why the numbers don’t matter nearly as much as we like to think they do.

So sit back, make yourself a cup of tea, and relax – because, my friends – its story time...

Believe it or not – I spent most of my transition into adulthood chasing the dream of rock stardom. I played guitar in a rock and roll band. We toured North America. We released albums and music videos. And we had the time of our lives doing it. Oh, and we learned a lot too – about ourselves; about each other; and about how little a website called MySpace truly meant to our band.

On our first coast to coast U.S. tour – we went out of our way to schedule a show in Baton Rouge, Louisiana. Having received a concentration of online requests from kids who lived there – we felt confident that it would be a worthwhile stop. As show time approached, however, the venue remained completely empty. Where had we gone wrong? Why would all these ‘fans’ who had taken the time to send us comments asking us to play in Baton Rouge not bother to show up? I sat, disappointed, and tried to come to terms with the fact that our online fan base would not always project, with accuracy, the number of people who cared enough about our band to come support us on tour.

Deflated – I began to wonder what the point of touring was. Why had we traded in our jobs, our money, our time, our girlfriends – only to spend months on end living in a van, sleeping in parking lots, and playing shows to nobody. My thoughts would have continued this downward spiral I’m sure – but, just as I thought I couldn't feel any worse about the situation – something absolutely incredible happened.

I was sitting shirtless in the front seat of our van reading a book. I hadn’t showered in a few days. The rest of the boys, just as dirty and tired as I, sat in the back playing video games. We were stalling – trying to buy as much time as possible before we’d take the stage in the hope that more kids might show up. A car pulled up slowly beside our van, and with more excitement that we were used to seeing at our shows, four boys jumped out. These four boys would change everything. You see, these boys had just driven 6 hours from northern Mississippi – the next state over – just to see us play.

They drove 6 hours – across state lines – just to see us play.

We played our hearts out that night to four boys from Mississippi – one of the best shows we would ever play as a band. It was also an important night for me, as a human being. Amidst all the potential for disappointment on that humid night in Louisiana, I discovered that numbers don’t mean anything. We build our lives around numbers, we build our bands around MySpace popularity, and we build our personal and creative endeavors around how many people we can get to ‘like’ us online. But that night - playing to four fans that really, truly cared about our music – that was more valuable than playing to thousands of people who don’t care at all.

--

I realized something that day - something about why quality is more important than quantity. About why we need to focus less on the numbers - and more on the people - on the quality of the connections in our lives.

I don’t want my worth to be defined by a number. Not by followers. Not by ‘likes’. You can’t judge your worth by the number of people that click a button on your page – for, that number does not reflect how much those ‘followers’ truly care. Even now, of the 214 followers that I have on Twitter, I could count on my fingers and toes, the ones that truly add value to my endeavours – the ones who truly matter. It’s those connections that we need to invest ourselves in – those are the people who deserve our time and attention. It’s the guy from Seattle who takes the time to keep me up to date on the happenings of his life – and takes a genuine interest in mine as well. It’s the girls in Italy and Portugal who – on visits to London – made the time to meet me for a cup of tea. It’s the fellow in San Francisco who is inspired enough by my ideas – making time to meet his own strangers on the opposite side of the world. It’s the girl from Australia who asks for my advice, and means it when she says ‘thank you’. These are the people who matter the most.

Does that mean that you should cast aside the rest, and favor the few who mean something? No, not exactly. It means that we need to recognize the potential that everyone has to mean something to us. The potential that every person has to add value to our lives. But we also need to be okay with the fact that not everyone will. We need to concentrate on being honest and genuine. To focus on producing quality content - content based on things we believe in - things that make us happy. If we focus on that from the get go - the growth may not come quickly, but the connections we make will matter.

Stop chasing numbers – stop obsessing over metrics – and remind yourself of the importance of nurturing the relationships that really are worth something – online, and off.

After all, you never know when four boys from Mississippi will show up and change your life completely. It’s these people that will help you get to where it is you want to go. They are the ones who are listening.

Speak to them.

100 Cups hits San Francisco, California!

2011-08-30T15:16:00.000-07:00

We are living in an absolutely incredible time - a day in age when the ability to connect is all around us - it is, quite literally, always at our fingertips. We blog, we tweet, we 'like', we check-in - and yet, somehow, we tend to forget that all of these new and exciting means of human connection cannot do much to replace the one upon which they were all built - our ability to speak.

To craft sounds into words - to mold words into sentences - and to construct, with these very sentences, our thoughts, our stories, and our emotions...

I was rather inspired when, quite recently, a gentleman by the name of Matt Ramos - of San Francisco, California - decided to take my ideas on board and meet his very own stranger over a cup of coffee.

(Click the photo to read about Matt's experience on www.30vanquish.com!)

Brief though Matt's meeting with a stranger may have been - it would seem to me that Matt walked away from the conversation with a renewed sense of inspiration - with an increased appreciation for motivation and productivity - with a deeper understanding for the privilege and opportunity that this amazing day in age affords us all. All of this - from a simple exchange of ideas - an exchange of words...

Try it yourself sometime. Take a moment to notice that people around you. The man crossing the street; the bus driver who gets you where you need to go day after day; the woman sitting next to you on a park bench. Take a chance. Say hello. Ask them how they're doing. You may be surprised how welcome the conversation is. And if it's not - well, be happy that you tried. And then try again...

It may seem like a simple thing to do - meeting a stranger for a beverage and some conversation - but sometimes, great things come from life's most simple gestures. Conversation - true, honest, genuine conversation - it has the power to change the world and everyone within it. It begs us to be ourselves, and knows we will learn, in time, to accept one another in spite of our differences. It urges us to speak, and asks us politely to listen in return. And so we listen; and learn; and grow...

And as we grow, we change - ever so slightly - leaving our old selves behind, we walk away anew...

[A most humble thank you to Matt Ramos for taking a chance on this. A point of disclosure - nothing monetary was exchanged between Matt and Sarah - just conversation and the exchange of ideas! Matt, I hope that you continue on your journey of self discovery and human connection - I know you will achieve great things! And for those of you who are interested - Matt Ramos also keeps a blog, with a focus on destroying social barriers and living constraint free - www.30vanquish.com - stop by, have a read, learn something!]

James Corden thinks I'm a stalker... (Cup # 27 with Ellen Lee)

2011-08-18T03:13:00.000-07:00

It's not every day that you meet a stranger for a cup of tea. It's also not incredibly common that such an event would be talked about on national UK radio by author and media personality Danny Wallace and renowned British actor, James Corden, of Gavin & Stacey fame.

Though, I suppose there isn't much about this while project that we can consider common or ordinary - so maybe it's fitting in a way!

I could tell you all about it - but maybe I'll let the following audio clips tell the story...

Ellen and I did meet for tea, and I assure you James Corden, there was nothing 'incredibly menacing' about it at all. Just to be on the safe side though - Ellen thought she would call the station and leave a message for Danny and James. Didn't want anyone losing sleep!

Thanks Ellen! Thank you for being such a good sport. For not being alarmed that I had somehow managed to get your name all over London radio. Thank you for sharing stories of your own creative projects, and for reminding me that it's those outlets that get us through the days and weeks that might not be as inspiring as others.

And thank you to Danny Wallace, James Corden, and The XFM Breakfast Show - for sharing your excitement and confusion with the world. I would love to have tea with all of you. What do you say?

[Photo courtesy of Ellen's iPhone!]

Do something. Do anything at all... (Cup # 26 with James Walters!)

2011-07-27T07:44:00.000-07:00

Life is tough sometimes. It gets busy. You get overwhelmed. I get overwhelmed... It seems lately that my life is getting quite skilled at getting in the way of my desire to meet strangers for tea – and as such, it took James Walters and I quite some time to actually get around to cup number 26 – a meeting that has, in reality, been in the works for the better part of a year. Between James’ bicycle trip across the UK and his ongoing home renovations, and my own tendency to hop on planes to other worldly destinations – getting together for tea was beginning to seem like it would never happen.

Being unemployed (for a period of time) does have its advantages, it seems – in the interest of having a cup of tea with James, anyway...

I met James in Soho during his lunch hour – finding ourselves a small Italian cafe in which to grab a sandwich and a cup of tea.

What struck me most about James – his willingness to meet me for tea aside – was the value he attributes to creative endeavours; the value in doing something - doing anything at all. Maybe it doesn’t matter so much what we spend our time on, creatively speaking, so long as we have something to act as that creative outlet. I’ve often spent my time wondering about the worth of what I am doing. I mean, post conversation - post cup of tea - I feel great. I feel energised and motivate to keep going – to keep meeting strangers, to keep talking and sharing my way to 100. But then, as has happened time and time again, I become overwhelmed. I revert back to those moments when I am not sure how I can keep doing this – to the moments when I wonder if it is even a good idea. Will I really come out of all of this with a new and improved outlook strong enough to last a life time? Does it matter if I don’t? Do the people that stop by this very site really care about the thoughts I take the time to share with them? Do the people I have already met for tea ever think about me – as I do them – do they ever wonder if I am still at it, meeting random strangers for tea and a bit of social interaction? Realistically, I can’t provide the answers to those questions myself. But meeting James helped me to realize that it doesn’t really matter, does it?

I meet strangers for tea, because I believe it’s worth doing. And maybe I don’t need any more reason than that. I do hope that I can inspire others, in some way, to be more open – socially speaking; to embrace others; to allow more random conversation and connection in their lives. But maybe that will happen if and when it is meant to. Maybe it’s not about trying to be inspirational, but rather, trying simply to be yourself, and do the things that you believe in – the things that you feel are worth while...

Maybe the simple act of following through with those meaningful endeavours – maybe that’s where true inspiration lies; within the actions of a person who believes enough in something, in anything, that they are willing to follow through with it regardless of the cost, the time, the struggles, or the reactions (or lack there-of) from others. Maybe all it takes to create inspiration, is to have the courage to do something - to do anything at all...

Sensibility .vs. Spontaneity (Cup # 25)

2011-07-15T16:59:00.000-07:00

Only a few weeks had passed since placing the first 'Care to join me for tea' ad on Gumtree when an email arrived in my inbox - an email that was just a little bit different than the others I had received.

--
I would love to.
There's only one tiny detail, I live in Lisbon, Portugal.

:)
Take care,
Sara Sebastião

I read Sara’s email again, amazed at how quickly word had spread beyond the shores of England. I should be clear – this email was sent to me in May of 2010 – and while I have since travelled to Australia, Canada, and the United States, all to sit down for tea with complete strangers – I can still remember the feelings of nervous excitement that reading Sara’s first email brought on. I would love to be able to say that I booked a flight the next day and went off to Lisbon for that cup of tea – that I threw caution to the wind and did something a little bit crazy – but I didn’t. My financial situation as it was (and still is), the travel tends to rely a little more on circumstance than it does on spontaneity. For now, I can live with that...

Spontaneity is a strange feeling. Most of us long for it. Require it at times. But it isn’t always sensible, is it? What a shame that sensibility has become such an ingrained part of our lives. We organise our existence around the idea that we must always be sensible – that we must live within the confines of what is socially acceptable. The thing about sensibility though, is that it doesn’t leave all that much room for spontaneity...

As luck would have it, a rather spontaneous trip brought Sara to London. Her friends thought it was a little bit odd that she was going off to meet a strange guy for a cup of tea – odd, but not surprising. Like me, Sara knows how important it is to be spontaneous now and again...

I’m not saying that being sensible is a bad thing. Even I am sensible, most of the time. But I do think that we need to find that balance in our lives between the necessity that is sensibility, and the urges that we call spontaneity. My life is more about taking a few risks, than it is about playing it safe all the time. Was it sensible to travel to Australia for a cup of tea? How about to Philadelphia or Seattle? No, not really – maybe not at all. But every one of those silly, impractical, spontaneous decisions I made have lead me to great things – to new friends; to amazing conversations; to new experiences. Maybe the quest to drink tea with 100 strangers isn't a very sensible one – but I’m okay with that. After all, regret lies not in the mistakes that we make in life, but in the chances that we never had the courage to take.

Maybe more of us need to be willing to take whatever life throws at us, and run with it. We need to give up control more often – be willing to make mistakes. Put sensibility in the back seat, and let spontaneity drive for a little while. Roll with the punches, because you never know where they might lead you. Maybe to a new job? Or to a new friend? To fame and fortune? To love?

Or maybe to a little cafe near Baron’s Court for a cup of tea with complete stranger.

If that happens to be the case – I suppose there is a sensible question that needs asking...

One sugar, or two?

Hello, my name is Jason. Let's chat!

2011-06-30T13:58:00.000-07:00

Send @coffeeshopchat a message...

I stared at the empty box for a few moments. I wasn't sure what to say, really. Here was a man – a few years older than me – a few years wiser too. A man who, in his own way, is doing exactly what I am doing with tea, only he uses coffee. Jason Simon is the brain behind Caffeinated Conversations – a blog, if you will, that shares the stories of a man in Seattle who wants desperately to believe that the art of conversation still exists. A man who has studied mediation and conflict resolution. A man who not only believes in the power of conversation, but also, the power that a coffee shop has to facilitate it. A man so dedicated to his quest that he wears a shirt bearing his name on the front, and on the back... lies a simple suggestion.

'Tap me on the shoulder if you want to chat.'

Funny that - as I stared at the screen, unsure of just what I should say to this man – he would get to me first.

We both knew from the start that this wouldn't be a conversation we'd be able to have in 140 characters or less.

As circumstance would have it, an impromptu trip home to Vancouver made the thought of a cup of tea (or coffee!) with Jason Simon a much more achievable reality. After having an ocean between us – the 200km drive didn't seem all that far...

I admitted something to Jason that day – something that I don't tell very many people - but something that, for whatever reason, I felt compelled to let him know. I don't keep it a secret on purpose – it's just something that can be a little strange to say out loud – strange to admit to others. Especially those whom you are close with.

I feel that I am here on this earth to achieve big things. Great things...

When I reflect on my life, I can't help but feel as if I've existed just slightly outside the guidelines of what society would consider 'normal'. I don't mean this in a bad way, mind you – I've just always been a little bit different. You'd have to ask my Mom for more clarification about my younger years - and she may very well provide that clarification in a comment below - but I am not sure there was ever a time when I was content with following the crowd. I don't mean this in a pompous way at all, I've just always wanted to achieve something more than the crowd would allow. My grades were always good – my options after high school were plentiful – and as much as I'd sometimes like to just settle down and get on with school, and with life - I just can't. I chase my dreams – I chase them until they are within reach – and if my dreams should ever change – I just get on chasing the next ones. At 26 years old now – I don't really have a lot to show for myself in the eyes of the crowd. No mortgage. No car. No money. No education. No career. No stability...

But, sitting there with Jason – confessing those thoughts to him – I realized that all of this doesn't really bother me too much. I am content letting the crowd live life as they see fit. I applaud them as they pass. I wish them well – and hope from the bottom of my heart that they all find success and happiness. But more than that, I accept the fact that I am a bit different. Accept the fact that I may never be 'normal', and I commit myself to continuing the chase for something more. Something different. Something greater...

Jason looked at me with a strange smile on his face. He didn't have to say anything... I already knew the words that sat, perched on the tip of his tongue.

He wants to achieve something greater too...

[ Oh yeah! Jason made me a shirt! Now you can tap me on the shoulder if you'd like to chat!]

Ti va una tazza di te?

2011-06-29T16:46:00.000-07:00

La vita e prena di opportunita...

Silvia handed me the book she had just written this in, ever so carefully above the first sentence on the first page.

I was touched that the memory of this book – a story that meant so much to her – came to mind after she had decided to meet with me. Touched even more that she would go out and buy me a copy of my own. The store had but a single English edition of the Italian novel, written by Italian journalist Tiziano Terzani - a chronicling of his adventures throughout South East Asia in 1993, the year that a fortune teller in Hong Kong had marked him for death. A year that, in reality, left him feeling more alive than ever before.

The table wobbled beneath us as we spoke. Silvia was shorter than I was, 5'8'' maybe. Auburn hair that fell just below her ears. Her eyes had an orange glow to them when the light hit just right. And when it did, I saw an honest girl with an adventurous spirit searching for meaning in her own life, just as I am searching for meaning in mine.

Everything in life has become so easy, that we no longer take pleasure in anything. Tiziano Terzani wrote those words in 1995, and I think the truth in them rings even louder today. In our obsessive quest for speed and convenience, and the subsequent success in integrating those values – we have stripped life of the small details that make it worth living. The journey doesn't seem to matter like it used to. Convenience gives us control. And when we have control, life is no longer about seizing opportunities – it's about manufacturing them. If we slow down though – if we take a moment to think, we realize that this is only true if we wish it to be so. The details remain, as do the opportunities that life conjures up without our influence – whether you pay attention to them or not, is up to you.

Silvia took Tiziano's words to heart. I could see this in the way she lived her life – hear it in the stories she had told me. Keeping an ear to the ground, and an ever watchful eye on the world. Paying close attention to each and every opportunity that life has placed at her feet. Taking note of the little details that many of us tend to take for granted.

I'll say it once more... La vita e prena di opportunita. Life is full of opportunities. It's full of inspiring people, and intelligent conversation. It's full of details too. Don't forget to pay attention to them. For those very details – they give life a touch of poetry, don't they?

What do you think?

2011-06-24T16:31:00.000-07:00

Is it really dead? Or have we just forgotten about it? Maybe it's like riding a bike - if you haven't done it in a while, it's a little tricky at first. You're nervous. A little wobbly. But sure enough, in time, it all comes back to you...

Interview time!

2011-06-18T20:48:00.000-07:00

Hello strangers!

After dropping off the face of the earth for a couple weeks, I am back. Truth is - I didn't really drop off the face of the earth. I did, however, take a trip back home to Vancouver. Being that jet lag has decided to pop by and say hello at 4:30am, I figure it's as good a time as any to get you up to speed.

The story of Silvia Pezzeti and cup of tea number 23 is still coming your way. I had some reading I decided I want to do before I finish writing about that one - a book that Silvia gave to me, a book that I think is as much a part of the my conversation with her as the words that we spoke to one another.

While at home, I happened to bump into Marianela - she and I sat down for cup number 9! Marianela is the girl who collects pictures of stranger's tattoos - a daily challenge to step outside her comfort zone, talking to strangers and digging for their stories, or a photo of a tattoo at least. Since our cuppa, she has expanded what was a short term project, to one that will last a year, leaving her with quite the collection of photos, stories, and new friends too. If you are curious - www.astrangeraday.com - take a look!

Being that I was so close to Seattle, Washington - I thought I might also drive down to meet Jason Simon to have a conversation that has been brewing for almost a year now. Meeting Jason was almost like meeting a different version of myself. Only, one who lives in the North-Western United States, and has probably talked to a few more strangers than I have in his years. The tale of that little adventure is on its way as well!

In the mean time, I did a little interview with a lovely lady named Murphy Bouma - a blogger from Woolongong, Australia. Murphy blogs about her life and the things within it that inspire her. If you care to have a read, the interview jumps a little deeper into who I am, and the things in my life that lead me to sit down for tea with strangers. At very least though, swing by Murphy's blog and have a look around. Thanks Murphy - I am lucky and most humbled by your interest in 100 cups, and will let you know next time I'm in your neck of the woods! Put the kettle on!

Thumbs up for Rock & Roll!

2011-06-03T16:14:00.000-07:00

Hello there!

It seems I've made promises I cannot keep! Not today anyway... I had hoped to have my thoughts together to tell you about my cup of tea with Silvia Pezzetti, but truth be told, my thoughts are not quite ready for sharing. I'm also feeling a little under the weather, which isn't helping things at all!

But rather than give you nothing on this lovely Friday evening - I offer you this.

Next time you're feeling like things aren't going your way - like the world just doesn't want to see you succeed - think of this little guy, and remember how good it feels to 'feel happy of yourself''.

Thumbs up everybody, for Rock & Roll.

The moments that change our lives forever...

2011-05-31T15:59:00.000-07:00

It was a Saturday. May 17^th, 2008 – if you want to me to be precise about it. A hike isn't something that Cody Beer and I would normally have planned for a Saturday morning, but for some reason, it seemed like a good idea the evening before.

Cody was reluctant to follow through - I could hear the hesitation in his voice when I rang him at 9am, just as I said I would. But what was I doing out of bed at 9am on a Saturday morning anyway? What good could really come of going for a hike on a Saturday morning?

I had no idea what I was in for...

We had been hiking for a couple of hours. Cody was a ways behind. I think he thought he was going to die - not that I was in great shape either, mind you. We pressed on though, as you do – because everyone knows that the only thing worse than dragging yourself out of bed on a Saturday morning to go for a hike, is dragging yourself out of bed on a Saturday morning to go for a hike without making it to the peak to enjoy the view.

Death had yet to tighten it's icy grip on Cody – in fact, I think he was beginning to enjoy himself as we neared the top. We passed by a group of fellow hikers, exchanging an acknowledgement of humility – you go into a hike like that thinking you're in pretty good shape, but you know the mountain is laughing a hearty mountain laugh as you stand, slightly hunched, gasping to catch your breath. Between gasps though, it wasn't the humility that the mountain was teaching that was on my mind. No. My mind was much more interested in the cute girl that Cody and I had just passed.

I looked back at Cody with a smile as we passed by – he was smiling too – the kind of smile that says 'What do you say we go hiking again next Saturday'? Cheeky bugger.

I didn't know it then – not when Cody and I sat at the top, enjoying the view we had just earned – not when I saw that same cute girl again, offering to take a picture of her and her room mate Justin, as I noticed them struggling to take the photo themselves. I didn't know it when I gathered up the courage to ask her for her number, or on the hike down, or on the drive home, or even that night when I would meet that very same cute girl from the mountain for a drink – but on Saturday, May 17^th, 2008 – my life changed forever. One stranger. One conversation. That's all it takes...

[Lou & Justin - This is the actual picture that I took of a the 'cute girl' and her room mate that day. Now, 3 years later, I live with that girl in London, and Justin is one of our closest friends. Funny how things turn out...]

I talk a lot about the moments that have the ability to change your life. I'm hunting for them I guess. Can a cup of tea change my life? Well, yes and no. The truth is – it has very little to do with the tea, and everything to do with the stranger and the conversation - but you knew that already I'm sure. Those are the ingredients that truly matter. I found this out 3 years ago on top of a mountain. But I want to experience it again. Over and over if I can.

And I realized something the other day as I walked through Richmond with Silvia Pezzetti, telling her the same story I have just told all of you about the stranger I met 3 years ago on top of a mountain – I realized that this is the one story that I have shared with each and every stranger I have met so far on my journey to 100. This is the one that started it all, in a strange sort of way. This particular moment is the one that set me down the road I am still on today. The road that led me to England. The same road that got me started having cups of tea with strangers. So today, I thought I should share it with all of you as well.

Oh, and if you are wondering who Silvia Pezzetti is – you'll have to come back on Friday so I can tell you all about the girl who came all the way from Italy to London for cup # 23...

[On that note, I'd love to hear if any of you have moments like this one. One stranger + One Conversation = Changed Life. I mean, I'm sure you do. We all do – so maybe you'd like to share them with me? Email onehundredcups@hotmail.com. Post comments here. Tweet @100cups. Post on www.facebook.com/100cups. I can share them on the blog, or I can keep them to myself – it's up to you. Just help me prove that a conversation is worth our time!]

Who is Chris Guillebeau?

2011-05-27T16:21:00.000-07:00

It can be a bit of a struggle coming up with new and worth while topics to write about, especially when the next cup of tea is still a few days away. I thought about telling you the story of 'Mad John' - the outgoing, but rather boisterous fellow who yells at people as the pass him by on the corner just up from my flat. He yells nice things, mind you - but I think I'd better pin the guy down for a cup of tea first, before I tell all his secrets. I considered talking of my upcoming plans for more tea related adventure, but I'd rather not spill the beans just yet. Poking around for some inspiration though, I found an email that I had put aside the other week - and so I think now might be a good time to tell you all about a man named Chris Guillebeau.

He and I haven't had a cup of tea - but something tells me that someday, we will.

Chris is many things. A writer. An entrepreneur. A world traveler. And routed in all that Chris does, is that quest to fight conformity in it's many forms. Chris has discovered that you don't need to live your life by the rules of another. You can carve your own path - in almost any way that you choose. Sure, you'll make some mistakes along the way - we all do - but those mistakes will be yours and yours alone. And you'll learn from them too.

It's an easy thing these days to get caught up in living the life that others expect. Maybe the pressures come from society. Maybe from your friends or family. From teachers. From the media. Wherever it is that these external pressures manifest themselves - and however they happen to make you feel - it's important to remember that you do have the option to ignore them. All of them. Am I saying that everyone should lead an unconventional life? No, not exactly. What I am saying, and I'm sure Chris would agree, is that you should decide for yourself what works best for you. Make your own rules. If those rules should lead straight from high school to university, to a white collar job in finance with a nice house to raise a family in - at least you know you go there on your own terms. If, however, they lead you to drop out of university to spend 5 years chasing your dreams of rock stardom, eventually putting those dreams aside to travel to world, moving from Canada to England to work for minimum wage and drink tea with complete strangers - maybe that's okay too.

Chris sends out weekly emails to his army - yes, he is the leader of an army too - and it just so happens that one of his recent emails struck an interesting chord with me and my tea drinking business - an email about the goodness of strangers.

I'll give you all a moment to take a look - but don't forget to come back. We're not quite finished yet.

Isn't it strange how how the word stranger has become synonymous with distrust. Strangers are bad. We avoid them. We don't know what they want from us, but we're sure they want something.

How did it get to be this way? How did it get so out of control? We've taught ourselves that someone who we don't know is not likely to be worth our trust.

What do you think about it? What is your natural reaction when a stranger approaches you? Do you feel it's right to teach our children that strangers are best to avoid, or does that simply spread distrust and side step the necessity to teach them common sense and good judgement. I don't have children myself, so I'm not sure it would be fair for me to comment on that. I can understand that desire to protect them, to keep them safe - but does teaching them to avoid strangers come at a cost. Is it having a detrimental effect on human interaction and general social skills? Have a look through the comments on Chris's page. Read some of the stories that his readers have shared. Consider your own life. Your own interactions with strangers. Share your thoughts here if you like. Tell me a story about a stranger you have met - positive or negative. Let's open the debate up on this end.

I'm not sure I have the solution yet - but it seems that a cup of tea is a good first step.

Unlikely Places. Ultimate Experiences.

2011-05-21T20:37:00.000-07:00

It's been a couple of weeks now since my last cup official of tea. And if my recent tweets didn't tip you off, I've actually spent the last 15 days travelling through Vietnam – working my way from Hanoi to Ho Chi Minh City. The trip wasn't exactly tea related – not in the 100 cups sense anyway, but that isn't to say that I didn't meet any strangers along the way- and I definitely drank a lot of tea.

While there are several cups brewing in the not so distant future, I thought I might take some time today to tell you about a stranger who entered into my life in the not so distant past. A stranger who has shown me incredible kindness and hospitality. A stranger with whom I may not have had a cup of tea, but who has had an effect on my life just the same.

My recent trip to Philadelphia to meet Mo Neville for cup # 22 would have me spending two nights in New York City, and after splashing on the plane ticket and accommodation in Philly, I wasn't sure I my bank balance could accommodate anything more – especially heading jobless into a two week run around Vietnam. I wonder if my impulsiveness will ever catch up with me?

I would turn to twitter, I thought – 100 cups had brought me so much already, perhaps it could help me find a couch to sleep on in New York City?

It only took a day, and I was sent in the direction of @adventurousness – though in real life, they call him Aaron. A friend of a friend - or perhaps more accurately, a friend of a stranger – but soon, Aaron and I wouldn't require the middle man. After a brief exchange, Aaron agreed to let me spend two nights on his couch. I was thrilled, and my bank account felt pretty good about it too. But what I would learn, rather quickly upon my arrival, is that Aaron was about to offer me much more than a just couch to sleep on...

After what felt like the longest bus journey of my life (something I didn't allude to when I told you about cup # 22), I arrived in New York City. I was almost 3 hours late. Would Aaron still be waiting for me on the corner of 34^th and 8^th? I wouldn't have blamed him if he wasn't. What reason did he even have to wait around? I was a stranger from the internet. A silly bugger from London who booked a flight to New York without the financial ability to book himself into a hotel. I was irresponsible. He didn't owe me a thing.

But he waited anyway...

I would learn very quickly that Aaron isn't your average stranger – that fact was ever so apparent in his willingness to treat me as as a friend, right from the moment we met. It didn't matter that we had never met one another before. Aaron already understands the value in opening your life up to the strangers within it – something that I grow more understanding of with each cup of tea that I have. Every conversation, every stranger – they bring me closer to truly understanding what we are capable of as human beings; to understanding the power of these connections that we have the ability to create.

Aaron took me to Shakes for New York's best burger. He took me to the Waffle Truck for the best waffle I've ever eaten – and believe me when I say I've eaten a waffle or two in my time. We went to Union Square and Grand Central. To the Trump Tower, and Radio City Music Hall, and the NBC Studios. He took me to brunch in the morning, and for my first New York bagel experience for lunch. We went to Tom's Restaurant, the diner you'd know from Seinfeld. We walked all over Manhattan - from the Upper West Side, through Central Park, to Wall Street, down to the Hudson River, and through the West Village. We went to the fire hall from the Ghostbusters' movies. To the site where the World Trade Centre once stood. We had Mexican for dinner - sharing stories of our worldly adventures and our mutual desire to experience all that life has to offer.

All of this for a me – a guy that he had only just met.

You could call it hospitality – but I can't help but feel that it's something much more than that. Hospitality is nice, but you don't usually walk away from a dinner party feeling life a different person, do you? Maybe I was still riding high after my cup of tea with Mo? Maybe the magic of New York City was taking its toll? Or maybe, just maybe, Aaron had offered me something much more than just kindness and hospitality. Maybe that's how it feels when someone takes what would usually require years of friendship and trust- the culmination of heartfelt conversations, shared experiences, honesty, and emotional growth - and and offers it to you all at once – the first time that you meet.

[ Radio City Music Hall ]

[ Everything bagel with Nova & Cream Cheese ]

[ Canyon of Heroes ]

[ Who you gonna' call? ]

[ Brunch! ]

[ Monks? ]

I left New York, determined that I would one day be able to pay Aaron back for everything that he did for me – and one day I will. For now though, maybe I can offer to someone else what Aaron so graciously offered to me. Maybe, if you come to London, you can stay on my couch. I'll show you the sights. We can eat waffles too if you like.

And maybe, if your feeling up to it, we can have a cup of tea as well...

[As an avid traveller - Aaron, like me - shares his stories with all who wish to read. Check out his website - have a poke around. Maybe there is something there for you too!]

Fraiser sends out a radio call for a new friend...

2011-05-17T04:53:00.000-07:00

Since moving to London, Lou and I have been watching a lot of Fraiser. This had very little to do with 100 cups until just a few weeks ago. An episode called 'The Friend' was on, where Fraiser, in realizing that his social circle is not so social anymore, puts out a call on his radio show to anyone who might like to get together for a cup of coffee and some conversation...

I couldn't help but laugh.

This particular episode aired back in 1996 - proof positive that the importance of human connection, and I suppose the humor and awkwardness that can make these connections difficult, have been on the minds of people for some time now - even television sitcom writers!

This isn't exactly what meeting me for a cup of tea is like, but I wanted to share it with you anyway!

And for what it's Bob, I'd have been thrilled to go for BBQ with you...

[On a side note, this has got me to thinking that it might be interesting to have a cup of tea with Kelsey Grammer - yes, Fraiser Crane himself! If you have any ideas how I might make that happen, feel free to share them with me! And if you are keen to watch the rest of the episode - go here!]

I would love to meet you for tea, but I live in Pennsylvania... (Cup # 22)

2011-05-15T00:27:00.000-07:00

It was a fairly ordinary Thursday evening when I received my first email from Mo Neville, a journalist from Philadelphia, Pennsylvania. Mo is hoping to lay to rest the idea that conformity is one of life's necessities. She calls her blog 'Project Joy' - a quest to uncover the individuals and ideas "that change how we work, live, and dream". I was thrilled to be considered as such. I mean, I know now the potential that's brewing within this quest to 100 cups - but I guess it still catches me by surprise when a stranger on the opposite side of the world takes the time to email and shows an interest, not only in what I'm doing, but in the things I have to say. I was glad too that Mo didn't take any offence to the fact that, in the excitement of receiving her email and the subsequent desire to provide a timely response, I mistook her for a man.

Good start Greg. Good start.

I scanned her initial email a second time. There was phrase that stood out. It was one I had heard before, and one that I expect to hear again. "I would love to meet you for tea, but I live in Pennsylvania.".

She said it like she thought it would stop me from coming...

I had been to Philadelphia before, and though my previous visit was brief, I was excited to return - to take the city in, see some sights, and meet Mo for tea of course. Heathrow to Liberty International. Airport rail to Newark Penn Station. NJ transit to Trenton. Switch trains. Amtrak to 30th Street in Philadelphia. Walk to subway station. Subway to Penn's Landing. Walk to Hostel. Check in. Walk to bar down the street. Eat veggie burger. Watch the Vancouver Canucks beat Nashville. Feel happy. Walk back to hostel. Go to sleep. It was a long day...

In the morning, I found my way to the cafe where I would meet Mo with relative ease. I was early, so I took a seat on the couch and pulled out my laptop in an effort to look busy. I wasn't really sure what to expect of our conversation - this would be the first time, with the exception of cup #14 on 4ZZZ radio in Australia, that the person I was meeting wanted to interview me. There would be a photographer, a tape recorder - the whole bit. It's a tricky situation when that is the case. Not that I would know, this being the first cup of tea with a professional photographer present - but I couldn't help but make assumptions about it's trickiness. The purpose of sitting down for a cup of tea is to talk openly about anything at all. I didn't want my conversation with Mo to be one sided. I didn't want it to feel like an interview, even though it was one. I wanted to know about her, just as much as she wanted to know about me. I wanted to hear about her project - about what inspired her. I wanted to learn about the things that excite her in her life as a journalist in Philadelphia. I wanted to walk away that day feeling like I knew who Mo Neville really was. Maybe that's a lot to expect from a conversation between two complete strangers - but then again, maybe it's not...

The conversation came easy. It always does. We talked about our lives - about the journey we found ourselves on, and how exactly we came to be where we are in life. We shared stories of our past and our aspirations for the future. We couldn't help but laugh when the man seated behind us got a little upset at all the flash photography - and couldn't help but laugh a little more when the owner of the cafe (who had given us permission to take photos) told the guy deal with it. I felt a little bad, if I am honest. I wanted to ask him to join us for tea, but I don't think he'd have been all that interested.

I could go on and on about my conversation with Mo - all three and a half hours of it. I could tell you how amazing it felt to sit down with a complete stranger, yet find so much to talk about. I could tell you how happy it made me to receive such an incredible outpouring of support from a person I had never met. I could tell you how touched I was that Mo had brought me some books to read, books that had served her well, and that she thought might also help me on my journey. But, I realize now that what's most important to my story, happened after I left...

Only a few hours after meeting with Mo, I was seated on the 4pm bus from Philadelphia to New York City. Engrossed as I was in one of the books that Mo had brought for me, I wasn't paying too much attention to the journey, which is a bit of a shame. I eagerly turned the page of Po Bronson's "What Should I Do With My Life" when a particular sentence grabbed me, jumped off the page in a way, as if it were trying to tell me something - something more than the words would add up to.

"Tell them that it's okay not to have an answer, but it's not okay to stop looking for one".

I had to pause for a moment, letting the words take hold inside my head.

I know I talk a lot about all the things that this project means to me. About how I hope that my stories might be a source of inspiration to others; a way for me to push myself to be more social and less judgmental; a means to challenge the increasingly isolated nature of society and create more conversation in the world; a way to prove to that anyone can be worthy of your time. And all of these things are true - every one of them. But even still, when I break it all down - when I look at it for what it really is - I suppose that this is all nothing more than a guy looking for some meaning in the world. This is me, smack dab in the middle of my own personal search for whatever it is that I should do with my life. I know it might seem like a strange place to look, having tea with strangers all around the world - but each stranger offers me something new - something I can use on my journey. New ideas. New insights. We help each other to clarify the things that we think we know, but that we feel a little unsure of. With each conversation, I can feel myself getting closer. I may not yet be sure what I am getting closer to, but after having a cup of tea with Mo Neville, I know that it's there.

I put the book down for a moment. Still pondering the words I had just read. Looking up, I could see the New York skyline peering over the horizon - the Empire State Building reaching just a little higher than the rest. I savored the moment - taking time to appreciate where I was, and what I was doing. What began with a simple idea between two friends, a rather curious ad placed online, and a single cup of tea in North London, now had me sitting on a bus bound for New York City. I closed the book, carefully placing it into my bag. I wanted to enjoy the rest of the ride. There was something incredible about that moment - sitting on that bus, thinking about my meeting with Mo, reading those lines in a book I had never heard of before earlier that afternoon.

You know those moments when you know without a doubt that you are exactly where you are supposed to be in the world? I've only had a few of them in my life. They often come without warning - they take you by surprise - but they are moments that you never forget. This was one of those moments.

Our lives tend to be unfold as a series of hits and misses. It's a guessing game at best. We take what information is available to us, make the most informed decisions that we possibly can, and hope for the best. It's a bit like making your way in the dark. Eventually, our eyes adjust and we can see a little bit - but not all that well. We walk with our arms out-stretched, hoping that we won't bump into anything along the way. We know we will though, so we hope too that we don't bump too hard.

When you have one of those moments, the ones I just mentioned, it's almost as if the light comes on in a dark room, if only for a single moment. It's blinding at first - overpowering. But then, all of a sudden, everything around us is so clear. So beautifully clear.

Sitting on that 4pm bus to New York City - I knew, without any doubt in my mind that I was exactly where I was supposed to be. That this... all of this... 100 cups. Tea with strangers. Conversation. Human connection. As strange as it might sound - this is exactly what I am meant to be doing with my life. I may have had my doubts before, but now - now I am sure.

Mo made that happen. She gave me the tools that led me to that discovery. So thank you, Mo Neville - thank you for turing on the light.

You should also take a few minutes to visit Mo's website - www.mo-projectjoy.blogspot.com - She has written some very lovely things about me, and about our meeting for tea - and a lot of other great stuff as well. It's hard to put into words how incredibly lucky I feel to have met her. And Mo, if you are reading this... you have that 'light' too. You really do. But more than that - I think we all do. It's somewhere within each and every one of us. It's just a matter of finding the passion that brings it out - the thing that makes it shine...

[Bottom two photos by Joan Cimino Photgraphy: joansphoto@comcast.net]

Tea at 36,000 feet (Cup #21)

2011-05-10T10:50:00.000-07:00

I'm not certain what it is about flying - but when you are 36,000 feet in the air over the Atlantic Ocean- talking to a complete stranger doesn't seem like such a crazy thing to do any more. I know this because, well, as I sat on the plane from London to New York, I wasn't the one fishing for a conversation.

Is it the inevitability that you will rub elbows for the next 10 hours? The fact that, at some point during the flight, I will have to excuse myself - interrupting what may well be the only decent 3 hours of sleep that Betsy and Richard will get? As weird as it sounds, it would seem that flying completely changes the social nature of a human being. We've grown into creatures who crave comfort and predictability. We don't trust that which we don't know. On a plane though, it becomes impossible for us to maintain that level of isolation. We become painfully aware of the people around us. Each time they adjust their position, every cough, every sneeze - every time they doze off on your shoulder sending a stream of drool onto your lapel - it's a bit disappointing really, that it takes that much to force us to be okay with sociability.

Back to Betsy and Richard though, and I guess an explanation as well about what I was doing 36,000 feet in the air over the Atlantic Ocean in the first place.

To be honest, I was actually quite content to mind my own business when Betsy asked me where I was off to. I know that goes against the message I have found myself preaching, but I guess, at some point, it's inevitable that the need for balance will rear it's little head and enter into the equation. While this quest to meet 100 strangers might suggest that I spend the majority of my time approaching people in the street, the reality of it is actually quite the opposite. I am getting better at it, but talking to strangers is still very much a challenge for me. I still get nervous. I still have those moments where, when silence creeps in, I begin to panic in the face of an awkward moment - which, of course, only serves to perpetuate the problem that may well have not existed in the first place. I like talking to people, it's true - but my preference tends to lie in keeping to myself. I still have a long way to go.

I wasn't exactly sure how to answer the question Betsy had just so innocently asked. Maybe she was just making small talk, just being polite. Did she really want more than an answer in short form? Did she care where I was going and what I would do when I got there? Should I tell her from the get go that I was on a plane from London to New York to meet a stranger for a cup of tea? Would she be ready for the conversation that an answer of that magnitude would require? I guess it would be an interesting ice breaker...

I decided to hold back though - talked around the questioned - thought I would buy myself a little time. We talked about the photography expo that her and her husband, Richard, had just attended in London. About the book Richard had written that had been nominated for an award at that very expo. I told the couple of my own interest in photography and film, admitting that, as high school came to an end, I nearly ventured to film school in pursuit of a career in the film industry. Richard seemed delighted, he was a film man himself - spending some time in the industry, but later leaving the hands-on behind to teach to the next generation the skills he had acquired. Betsy was a social worker by trade. I told her that my girlfriend was a social worker as well. Funny, the things you can have in common with the stranger seated next to you on a plane.

But Betsy still did not have a satisfying answer about the purpose of my trip, and so she asked again.

'So, where did you say you were off to?'

Both her and Richard looked to me for an answer. They seemed genuinely interested too. I didn't want to lie to them. And I certainly couldn't put it off any longer - so I told them. I told them everything. I told them of my move to London and the immediate difficulties that a move of that nature had created. I describe the social nature of a city like London, one that had welcomed them with open arms they said - but they were only there for the weekend - the magic hadn't worn off yet I suppose. I told them about my desire to create more conversation in the world, to challenge the growing interest in isolation. I talked about the need to challenge my own social preconceptions, the habitual way that I make judgements about people I don't know. I told them about 100 cups - my journey to have 100 cups of tea with 100 strangers, and how I hoped that this journey would change the way I look at the world and the people around me. I shared stories of my journey so far, of all the wonderful people I had met, and of all the wonderful people I am sure are still out there, as keen as ever to join a guy like me for a cup of tea. And I told them about Mo, the journalist from Philadelphia that I was off to meet. The reason why I was on the plane.

I was beginning to feel a little silly, playing with my tray table as I unloaded my story on a couple of New Yorker's who now call New Jersey their home - but as I looked up for the first time in since launching into my tall tale of self-discovery-meets-social-experimentation, I knew that they understood. They probably wouldn't have invited me to bring my girlfriend to visit their country house in Vermont if they hadn't.

In that moment, I knew there was only one thing left for me to do. Reaching up, I pressed the button to call the flight attendant.

'May we have 3 cups of tea, please?'

Not a cup of tea. Not yet, anyway...

2011-05-07T01:02:00.000-07:00

One of the questions I continue to ask – to you, and to myself – is if a cup of tea has the power to change my life. Can a single conversation with a complete stranger on topics of a fairly ordinary nature, have extraordinary results? What if I were to have 100 of these conversations, inviting the opportunity for change into my life on a consistent basis? What might happen then?

I can feel the changes, as small as they are, with each and every cup of tea. Each conversation I have sparks new ideas in me. It brings change to the ideas I already have. With each conversation, I take small steps towards a deeper understanding myself, and my place in this world. I develop purpose, and discover the subtleties of social interaction that we have lost sight of in this digital age. I am learning to appreciate the people around me – an appreciation that we really shouldn't have lost sight of in the first place...

But how can I measure any of this? I mean, I write about it – I share my thoughts with all of you – but these changes are purely internal. I'm in a wrestling match with the metaphysical, trying desperately to come to a greater understanding of the ability we have to connect to one another, and flirting playfully with the potential that these connections have to inspire change and offer new opportunities. But, it's the opportunities I must chase if I hope to have any substantial proof - any actual evidence that sitting down for a conversation with a stranger, or in my case, 100 of them, might have the power to re-shape my life entirely.

Elenita Belgica, a journalist and radio host out of Montreal, Canada - after hearing about a Canadian in London who drinks tea with strangers, thought she might send me an email in the hope of having me as a phone guest on her weekly radio show. While that conversation may now have to wait a few months due to changes to her own schedule, connecting with Elenita has already lead to an opportunity that I may not have been offered had it not been for the 20 cups of tea I have had to date.

An invitation has been extended to me to be a regular contributor to a new, news-based website – www.vipinternetnews.com. The online publication will be released monthly, and will feature a collection of news stories and articles, all with a generally positive spin. Seems like a good fit for my adventures, doesn't it? Will I be paid? No. Does that matter? Of course not. Will this lead to anything bigger? I have no idea. But, in the words of the 'Great One' (that's Wayne Gretzky, by the way - the hockey fan in my couldn't leave that one out), 'You miss 100% of the shots you don't take.'

The maiden issue was just released, and features the story of a stranger I met on the bus in London. Maxine and I haven't had a cup of tea just yet, but I'm confident that we will. She's got my number after all...

Enjoy the article, have a poke around the rest of the site if you like, and on the off chance that any of you are keen to share any stories of your own, let me know. Elenita is always looking for more contributors to the site and I would be more than happy to put you in touch!

Say hello... to Clipper. (Cup # 20)

2011-05-03T17:26:00.000-07:00

I can't help but wonder, sitting on this train to Crewkerne, where everyone else is off to today. Everyone seems rather content to mind their business, paying no attention to me as I stare, wondering about the lives they might lead. I can't be sure, but I would guess the nobody here is wondering the same things about me that I am wondering about them. And even if they were, I'm confident that none of them would guess that the only reason I am on this 3 hour train ride is for a cup of tea...

You probably would have guessed that by now though, am I right?

Before today, I had never been on the production floor of a tea company. Actually, I've never been on any sort of production floor at all. Today may have also been my first time wearing a hair net. It was a special day, today was - though, the hair net had very little to do with it. I had been wondering for a while what a tea company might think of all of this tea drinking business, whether they might appreciate what I have set out to do using the oh so lovely beverage that they've devoted their careers to producing. Funny that all I should do to set up a meeting with a tea company then, was ask.

[ Hair net? Check! All ready for the tour! ]

I had been talking to Clipper Teas for a little while – throwing around some possible dates for me to come by their headquarters in Beaminster – a small town some 200 km's outside of London. I took a little while I suppose, but the cup of Clipper at the end of the tunnel was definitely worth the wait.

Claire Tuck picked me up from the station – a short drive from Clipper HQ. There is something comforting about receiving such kindness from someone you have never met. When I first reached out to Clipper, I was surprised to receive a reply at all, let alone an invite for tea and a ride from the station. I would learn though, as the day went on, that Clipper isn't your average tea company.

Claire and I started with a tour of their production floor – from the warehouses that hold the tea leaves, to the storage facilities for tea's ready for shipment, and finally, to the place where all the magic happens. Watching the machinery portion the tea, setting it onto the paper to be sealed, perforated, cut, sorted, packaged, boxed, and sealed again. Incredible, it is – watching it all happen. A single line, manned by 2 or 3 workers, pumping out 350 cases of tea an hour. This didn't feel like your average production line I thought, as Paul stopped the machine, pulled out a single packet of wild berry tea, ripping it open and handing it to me to smell – this was something entirely different.

Clipper, while they do export to an international customer base, and hold the title as the first UK based fair trade tea company – operate more like small business - a family business. I guess though, you'd have to operate that way when a genuine worry on your way to work in the morning is the risk of getting stuck driving behind a tractor. There's just no room for big-city, corporate stress in a place like this. They employ real people, doing their best to keep things local. Surely there would be pressures to move into bigger facilities, to increase production and cut costs – but then they wouldn't be the same company that Mike and Lorraine Brehme started in the upstairs bedroom of their house with only two chests of Assam and a desire to offer to world a better quality cup of tea.

Penny Knapman – my initial contact at the company – later joined Claire and I in the company boardroom, where the three of us drank tea and talked the day away. I am never short of amazed at how is it becomes to open up when you have a cup of tea in your hands. Sitting in Beaminster, I felt different than I did only hours earlier in London. I felt at ease. I felt relaxed. And as we spoke of the importance of slowing down, existing completely in the moment I felt, in a strange way, as if there was nothing else in the world besides Penny, Claire, and I – and our tea of course.

I know how important it is to exist in the moment. To embrace today - letting go of the past and feeling okay about the fact that we have no idea what the future may or may not hold. Like anything though, this is a skill that takes practice to perfect. How incredible it is that I live in London right now. That I have the freedom and ability to pack up my life and move it to the other side of the world. And though a move of that nature is difficult, it is harder still to remember that each moment spent wondering about what could have been – is a moment that you never truly lived. A moment you lose forever. I've always struggled with that. Even in those incredible, awe inspiring moments - I tend to coast. To detatch. I know I was there, but my recollection is hazy. I spend too much time conerned with what's next, and forget to enjoy what is. It's strange to say, but each cup of tea - each conversation - it forces me to live in the moment. It pulls my head out of the clouds, and reminds me that there is just as much, if not more, to enjoy right here. Right now.

I felt alive today, sitting with Penny and Claire – and I can't help but feel that it might have had even just a little something to do with the Clipper tea that sat in front of me – savouring each sip, appreciating the flavour, the subtle undertones, and the way it warms your entire soul as each mouthful makes it's way through your body. I noticed the warmth of the mug in my hand. The way that it burned my finger tips if I held it too long. I imagined Claire on a boat, as she told me of her love for sailing. I remembered that last time I sailed - appreciating the way that, once on the open sea, your troubles seem non-existant, as if you left them back at the dock. I listened to the words we each spoke - letting each one resonate - appreciating not just what was being said, but how alive each word was making me feel. I looked up at Claire, and then over at Penny - I wonder if they felt it too?

It's amazing that something as simple as a cup of taught me that I need to stop just existing, and get back to being alive. To always strive to see the value within the people around me. To appreciate that beauty that each day offers to us, but more importantly, to accept the offering and share it with everyone that I possibly can.

So here's to sharing, and living in the moment – and to getting stuck behind tractors too. After all, maybe getting stuck behind tractor is just life's way of reminding us to slow down and enjoy the ride.

[ Claire to my right and Penny to my left! ]

Proof that we need to change...

2011-04-29T23:34:00.000-07:00

If, on your way to work tomorrow morning, you passed by an old man laying unconscious in the street, would you help him? Would you stop to see if he is okay? What if it were the middle of winter, the streets covered in snow, temperatures dipping below zero? Or what if you were in a hurry – if you were late for work. Would you stop then?

I would like to think that, for the majority of people, a situation like that would illicit an automatic reaction. That seeing someone, even a stranger, in need of assistance would ignite within you the natural desire to help a fellow human being. It would seem though, that the desire to help isn't as natural as an optimistic fellow like myself would like to believe.

I found this article a while back – so while it may not be recent news, I don't think it any less relevant. I know I speak often about the disconnection between people in the world today – about the lack of social awareness and the increasingly isolated nature of society. And if you've ever had any doubts about the things I have said or the opinions I have shared, maybe this is proof enough that something needs to change.

A retired gardener nearly died pf hypothermia when he collapsed in the street and passers-by ignored him for 5 hours. Great grandfather Brian Courtney was walking to his doctor's surgery when he fell unconscious to the pavement at about 8am. Hundreds of pedestrians and motorists breezed past the 77 year old and someone finally dialled 999 at 12:40pm. When paramedics arrived minutes later, his body temperature had fallen to 26C (78.8F) and he was nearly dead. Mr Courtney, who suffers from a Kidney condition, was taken to hospital and doctors were amazed he survived the ordeal in Central Salisbury, Wiltshire. 'I can't believe that nobody stopped to help him,' said his daughter Karen Paddington. 'It makes you question how caring people really are here.'.

You can all it the bystander effect, or Genovese syndrome, or whatever else you like - but I can't help but feel that giving it a name only serves to apply reason to what is an incredibly unreasonable display of social irresponsibility.

I could share my thoughts, but feel as if all I can say is that I am sincerely disappointed. Do you remember when your parents would be so utterly upset with you – your careless and irresponsible actions causing them so much anguish that they simply had no energy left to be angry. That is how reading this makes me feel. Disappointed.

If there was ever a time I could use some feedback, it is now. Share your thoughts on this. Share them with me, and everyone else you know. Tell us how this makes you feel. Tell us that you would have helped...

[Feel free to post your thoughts as comments – or if you'd rather keep them private you can email me at onehundredcups@hotmail.com – I guess what I am chasing after are your opinions on how things go to be this way. Was it always like this, or are things getting worse?]

From friends, to strangers, to friends again...

2011-04-26T17:24:00.000-07:00

I'm going to break from the usual today and tell you all a story about an old friend of mine. An old friend who, after spending most of our youthful years together, I fell out of touch with. A friend who spent the last 12 years as more of a stranger, than a friend at all...

Time and circumstance had pulled Leighton and I 12 years and 7,577 km's apart, it didn't take either of us all that long to realize that 12 years and 7,577 km's between friends isn't all that long after all.

I didn't actually realize it until his visit, but Leighton and I have known each other a lot longer than either of us had realized. In fact, we were surprised to learn just recently that even our fathers went to high school together. As youngsters – aged 3 or 4 I would say – we lived in the same housing complex. Though our recollection of one another going that far back is vague, you could say that it all began back then – living in Dunvegan Court – throwing rocks at wasps nest's with the older boys, riding our bikes in the rain, and running for our lives as the cries of Old Anna Mooney scared us down from the trees we knew we weren't supposed to climb.

I can remember, at age 11, staying up all night in Leighton's basement playing Sega and eating candy until we became so delirious with sleep deprivation that the only logical solution was to spend 3 hours jumping on his trampoline. What a proud moment it was for us – two young boys on a pursuit to prove to one another that sleep is unnecessary, and that candy and video games is sufficient substitute. Or the incredibly unhealthy, but equally comical infatuation with the Spice Girls we developed in grade 7. I still struggle to make sense of that one, even today – though Leighton and I are pretty sure it was Jarryd who got that started.

Even know, I struggle to grasp how Leighton and I could have ever lost touch – but we did. High school came around, and I suppose our interests began to change. The girls came around too – or well, I guess the girls were always there – we just began to feel... differently about them.

I suppose we're not the only two friends to have lost touch, to have gone our separate ways, never to look back. The difference about Leighton and I though, is that I did look back. Twelve years since we last spoke, I sat in my bedroom in London wondering whatever happened to the friend who was once my Jacob Marley, guiding me as Ebeneezer Scrooge, through the depths of my guilt ridden subconscious in the annual Christmas musical at our elementary school. But rather than continue wondering, I started searching, finding my old friend back home in Burnaby, right where I left him. Funny thing was, Leighton wouldn't be staying in Burnaby for too much longer...

I sat at Heathrow, eagerly waiting for Leighton's flight to arrive. I was nervous. Meeting strangers had become easy for me – and though Leighton was very much a stranger to me now – something felt different. Lee Allen and Emma Gridley, some of the first on my quest to 100 – they didn't know anything about me – they had no grounds on which to pass judgement. But Leighton knew who I used to be, and whether he realized it or not, he would have an opinion on the person I had become.

I had been waiting nearly 45 minutes - his plane had landed now – the screen told me so, but there was no sign of him. Had I missed him? Did he look that different? As I pondered these things, an announcement caught my attention over the loud speakers - “Could Gregory Dion please report to the Airport Services desk”. Leighton was paging me! I must have missed him! I walked hurriedly to the desk that had beckoned me, but was disappointed to see only a middle aged woman standing in it's vicinity. If that was Leighton, we'd have a lot of catching up to do.

The good news – Leighton had not become a middle aged woman. The bad news – an immigration officer was on the phone, and needed to speak to me.

'Hello, this is Gregory Dion speaking'. I spoke with as much confidence as I could gather.

'Hi Greg. Listen, I've got someone named Leighton Wong here. He tells me you are here to pick him up?'

'That is correct' I tell him.

'Can you tell me how you know Mr. Wong?'

'We grew up together!' I said with excitement.

'And when was the last time you saw him?'

'... about 12 years ago...'

I wasn't feeling so confident anymore.

The immigration officer continued to ask questions, most of which I realized I could not answer. What were Leighton's intentions in the UK? What did he do for work back home? How long had he been planning his trip? Who would be finding his travels? Where would be be going after leaving the UK? How long did he plan to be travelling for?

I suppose it did all sound fairly suspicious. A Canadian guy, having recently quit his job, coming to the UK on a one way ticket to meet a friend he had not seen in 12 years. And all that I could really tell the officer with any true confidence is that the two of us used to really like the Spice Girls. I didn't imagine that would help Leighton clear immigration though, so I kept it to myself.

It took 4 hours or so for immigration officials to finally give Leighton entry clearance to the United Kingdom. He looked exhausted when we walked through those doors – exhausted and relieved – but, through all the relief and exhaustion, he looked exactly like I remembered.

Leighton and I spent the next week getting to know one another again. I showed him around the city I now called home, and took him with me to explore areas I had yet to discover. We spent the afternoons walking the busy streets of London, and the evenings with our feet up at the pub. We remembered old friends, told stories, and wondered what happened to everyone else we used to know. We drank pints, went for a curry on Brick Lane, rode bikes through Regents park, and wandered the banks of the Thames after dark.

It's amazing how easily time can turn a friend into a stranger. How, in the absence of communication, we can completely loose touch with someone we probably thought would be in our lives forever. And even though today's technologies have made it exponentially easier to get back in touch, it remains just as easy to never take the time. Funny thing is though, for all the of year we spent not speaking, it seems that a single afternoon was enough to put all of that in the past for Leighton and I. How instantly the two of us had reconnected. And the stories! The things we remembered! The moments that, as a 12 year old, passed by without notice. The seemingly insignificant happenings of our young lives that, when we look back on them today, had an immeasurable effect on the men we had become.

All these words though, they don't really do any justice to the week Leighton and I spent getting to know each other again. They don't capture the moments of laughter we shared looking back on the silly things that used to seem perfectly normal and acceptable to us. They don't really give you any idea how great it felt to say goodbye to another stranger in my life, and welcome an old friend back in.

[Look closely!]

Relationships & the Power to Change Your Life - Cup # 19 with Sam Murray!

2011-04-23T15:52:00.000-07:00

I had never been out this way on the Central line – in fact, I had never really spent much time in East London at all. A rather interesting realization to have as the train made it way onwards to South Woodford, where I would meet Sam Murray for the 19^th cup of tea on my journey to 100.

Twitter had brought Sam to me, or well, me to Sam – if I am being precise about it. I had seen some tweets flying around about tea and conversation and thought I might add my thoughts on the matter – I am becoming a bit of an expert on the subject you know...

Initially, Sam seemed to have misinterpreted my interjection, and fired back with something fairly negative in nature. I was taken back slightly – after all, my intentions with all of this are genuinely positive. I remained hopeful that I might explain myself to Sam, to let him know about my project with the hope that he might give me another chance to throw some thoughts and ideas around. Thankfully, he came around - and after taking a look at the website, seemed interested to meet, apologetic even, of his initial reaction to my comments.

Sam was waiting nervously at South Woodford for my arrival. He had admitted his tendency to keep to himself, to work within his comfort zone. Being as social as having a cup of tea with a complete stranger requires doesn't come easy. I know all to well the roller coaster of emotions that we ride as a result. The worry that you won't get along. That you might not have anything interesting to talk about. That the other person my misinterpret your intentions! There seems to be an endless list of possible reasons why this could go wrong, why meeting a stranger for tea might be a bad idea. For Sam, meeting me was definitely a step out of the ordinary, and while all of this is becoming more and more ordinary for me, I was happy I could provide him with the opportunity.

Sam was an interesting fella. Works as a bookmaker – though, not the shady, illegal type. Enjoys music and a good night out. Seems he has been on his own a while, and that can be a tough thing to take on at a young age. I'd say he's done well though – he seems happy. More important than that though, he seems convinced of his ability to achieve something more in life. I'm not sure how he'll feel about me saying this when he reads it. I'm not even sure he'd agree. But I'm sure I caught a glimpse of it. He'd probably describe himself as a bit of a cynic, in fact. But there is a positivity about the guy that didn't come from his words themselves – more from the way he said them. His easy going nature was comforting. He seemed completely willing to accept the things that are, but understanding of the fact that each of us has the power to change the things that will be – if we should wish to do so.

Sam is in the process of starting up an Internet gaming company. It's still early in the game for Sam, but as he shared his thoughts with me, I couldn't help but feel convinced that he is on the right track. Starting small is the key. You may be nowhere near where you'd like to end up, but any step is a step in the right direction – a step closer to being wherever it is that you want to be. He will build a client base, develop the game further, enabling him to offer more to his users. As the gamers invest more into him, he will be able to invest more back into the company – helping him to improve the gaming experience continuously. This relationship between him and the game's users is an incredibly powerful one – Sam knows this. What's funny though is that it certainly doesn't apply simply to Sam's business plan. It applies to life – every aspect of it. It applies to the 18 others I have met for tea thus far, and it will apply to the 81 people I have yet to meet. It applies to my friends back home in Canada, to my parents, to your parents, to their parents...

And it applies to you too...

Relationships are one of the single most important aspects of our lives. Heck, they might even be the most important. Consider your own life. Consider the relationships in it. You build and maintain them in every area of your daily life. At work, at school, at home – with friends, with colleagues, with girls and with boys. With bosses, and with clients. With family, and with yourself. And with strangers too.

My conversation with Sam got me thinking quite a bit about relationships and how the relationships in our lives help us shape our future. We are defined, in part, by the relationships we keep - by our willingness to invest ourselves in one another. Through these investments, we acquire the power to create change for ourselves and those around us. Think about it for a moment. Think about your job. By building and maintaining positive relationships at work, you move yourself into a position to do and earn more. Think about romantic relationships. We nurture those with the hope that they will one day lead us to starting a family. And I don't think I need to highlight the returns that come from investing in your close friends and family!

So whats to say then that investing some time and energy in a complete stranger cannot lead to a worthwhile return? I believe the correct answer to that questions is nothing... nothing at all.

Tuesday 2-for-1!

2011-04-19T19:11:00.000-07:00

Hey strangers!

While things have been quiet on the blog front - I assure you that my journey to 100 cups has been at the forefront of my mind! The last month has been quite a run around, but I have now emerged with some new cups of tea to tell you about, and some upcoming plans that, frankly, are pretty darn exciting!

I'll throw two stories at you today - my final Australian meeting with Alexander Downs from earlier this year, and my first UK cup of 2011 with Matt Whitby. I hope you enjoy them!

In addition to cups 17 & 18, I also want to take a moment to announce that from today forward, Tuesdays and Fridays will be of particular importance for you and I! My intention is to share my thoughts with you two times a week as they relate to my journey to 100 cups, and all the subsequent ideas that might come to me as a result. The further I venture into all of this, the more I feel it taking hold of me. It's changing me, one cup - one stranger at a time. Bit by bit, this is all making me a better person. I want to share those changes with you, and hope that you might find some inspiration for yourselves amongst all of this.

So make yourself a cup of tea and sample what Tuesday has to offer! Coming this Friday - the story of my cup of tea with Sam Murray in South Woodford, as well as a pretty cool announcement about a cup of tea I will be having early next week upon my return to London!

. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .

Cup # 17 - Alexander Downs - Brisbane, Australia

It's almost fitting that I should finally get around to telling you all about my cup of tea with Alexander Downs on board this Malaysia Airlines flight back to the very city in which we met - Brisbane, Australia. My last visit was a bit of a whirlwind - and if you read any of the previous stories, you'd already know about my meetings with Jeremy Staples and Warren & Amanda Greaves, as well as the cup of tea on 4ZZZ radio.

I was halfway through my chat on 4ZZZ radio with Quentin Ellison when the studio phone rang...

'It's for you' said Quentin, as he reached across the desk passing me the handset.

I was caught slightly off guard, if I am honest. The excitement of sitting in a radio studio talking about my journey to 100 cups was enough, I thought - and now, to know that someone was actually listening - the game had just changed completely! I mean, I know people listen to the radio - I was confident that people would hear me and the story that I hope the share with the world - but most people, they don't really listen. They enjoy the background noise - the often comical DJ banter - and then they turn off the radio and get back to real life. To know that someone was really listening, so inspired that they would pick up the phone and call the radio station to speak with me - that really meant something.

Alex and I planned to meet at the Three Monkeys cafe. While he was the first to get in touch with me in the interest of meeting for a cuppa - he would be the last person I met during my time in Brisbane. I sat out front of the cafe with Lou, awaiting his arrival, unsure (as I always am) of what to expect.

An awkward looking fellow approached from behind me - Lou saw him coming.

'I think that's him!' she whispered with excitement.

It's funny how you can spot them. They walk carefully - a mixture of fear and excitement in their eyes. If you happened to see them arriving, they usually pause at the entrance - take a look around, glance at their phone to see if they have missed a text from me, look back in the direction from which they came - probably thinking 'if I turn and walk away now, I can pretend like this never happened'. But they don't walk away. They pull themselves together, and walk inside - hoping, just the way that I do, that the conversation will not be awkward, and that they might just take something valuable away from it. I froze a little as I watched Alex - for the first time, I had watched someone go through what I go through each and every time - the second thoughts, the doubts, the worry - and when you overcome all of that, you're already better off than you were before, aren't you? How awkward could a cup of tea be anyway?

As I pondered this, though - Lou kindly drew my attention to the fact that I had just let the guy walk inside without acknowledging him. Feeling like a bit of an ass now, I followed him inside. Through the long corridor lined with tables and chairs he walked. I didn't want to run up behind him or call out, so I just followed - not close enough that I could tap him on the shoulder, and far enough away that calling out would draw far too much attention to two men meeting for a cup of tea and some ordinary conversation. I hurried my pace, trying to catch him before the awkwardness of the situation I had created could escalate further - but as Alex entered the garden at the back of the cafe, it became all too evident that I was too late. Sitting at the first table in the garden was a lone gentleman on a laptop. Brown hair, collard shirt, dark jeans - the very description I had given Alexander so that he could spot me. I knew what was about to happen, and I think you do too...

As I stood and watched - Alexander approached this man, making the fair assumption that it was me.

'You must be Greg!' Alex said excitedly.

'Pardon me?' said the well dressed man.

'Greg?' Alex said, with much less confidence than the first attempt.

'No?'

And then a long pause, as the two men stared at each other...

The man who made the mistake of dressing like me was clearly confused. Alex was confused, and probably a little embarrassed. And I was just standing there, watching. Alex turned away from the man who was dressed much the same as I was, looking desperately for another match. Knowing that I could not let him walk into that again, as casually as I could, I tapped him on the shoulder.

'You must be Alex!'

Indeed, he was. I knew this already. He looked relieved, happy to see me even - and I felt fairly confident that he did not realize I had just watched his slightly awkward attempt to greet the man he incorrectly assumed to be me.

To his credit, our conversation contained almost none of the awkwardness that I had just witnessed. We spoke of academics - our interest in learning, and not just the kind of learning that takes place in a classroom, but the learning that take place each and every day - in regular, ordinary, everyday life. Alex is studying social work, and wants to focus his career on empowering communities to create positive change for themselves. The idea that if you can convince people that they have the means, they will band together, and manage their own affairs, creating a bottom up model for community development. This model for community development, in a way, has a lot to do with having tea with strangers. The idea that ordinary people with seemingly no influence on society or culture, can get together for a conversation, share their ideas and stories, and by doing so, form a collective of people who want to create something positive. I want to create a world where people want to connect with one another - I want that to be acceptable again. Now I had Alex on my side.

After several cups of tea, and a lot of banter about the social state of the world and our shared belief that great change can come out of a seemingly insignificant occurrence - Alex suggested we head across the street to the pub for a beer. I am not much of a drinker - but it seemed like a good idea - and I felt like, at the very least, I owed the man a pint for the minor embarrassment I had already caused him. We hopped across the road to the pub and I bought the man a beer - I was more relaxed now of course, and Alex and I continued our conversation. He was a good bloke, and he had a lot of great ideas. I could see in him something similar to that which I believe to be inside of me - a desire to create something good for others. The desire to share the things he knows, with hope that he might inspire some good in the world. I don't know if he realized it then - but Alex had already inspired me, even before we met for a cup of tea. It was something he wrote to me during our initial exchange - something quite profound - and something that I think is best shared with all of you just as Alex wrote it.

"I hope to bring people closer to recognizing that living a fulfilling enjoyable life does not stem from segmented moments of bliss, but rather comes from developing a sustained momentum of continual awareness about the rareness of our existence."

If nothing else, I hope that in meeting strangers for tea, I might be able to convince people of these words, just as Alex has phrased them. To reveal to the world the beauty that can be found in the incredibly ordinary happenings of an incredibly ordinary day. The recognition of our unique ability as human beings to communicate with one another. To be open to hearing what people have to say, and to appreciate that everyone has the ability to create meaning in your life. Alex had taught me a lot already, and introduced me to some new great thinkers who's work I was keen to learn more about. And I guess, Alex reminded me that being awkward is okay too. It's not easy to meet a stranger for a cup of tea, and it certainly cannot be easy to approach the wrong stranger only to be shot down in a flurry of momentary confusion. But, the confusion and embarrassment passes, and if you are lucky - you come out of the whole thing with a new friend and a slightly new perspective.

I snapped our photo, as I do, and Alex and I parted ways. Meeting Lou just around the corner - I told her of the slightly embarrassing start, but more importantly, I told her about all the great things that Alex and I had shared with each other. After a short stroll around Brisbane's West End- we began to head back towards the car as I continued to reflect on the conversation I had just had. Waiting for our signal to cross the street, I noticed Lou looking intently at something on the other side of the road.

'Isn't that him there?'

Alex stood opposite us, waiting, just as we were, to cross the intersection. The signal turned, and we began to walk towards one another. I looked forward, my hand poised to launch into a wave, or perhaps a handshake if the upcoming exchange should call for it. This was no longer a meeting of strangers. It was a reunion of two friends. Lou was ready too, interested to meet the gentleman I had just spent the last couple hours getting to know. As the moment approached, Lou and I both looked to him - Lou's hand was ready as well - as we both know the exchange in the middle of the road would have to be a brief one.

'Hey Alex!' we both said it in unison - looking eagerly to him for a reply.

But Alex, head locked straight ahead, kept on walking - no smile, no nod... nothing at all. Our enthusiastic hello had been missed! Ignored! Maybe we should have been louder? More assertive? Now, though, it was too late...

As Lou and I walked onwards, confused and embarrassed - she lent close and whispered the words she knew we were both thinking at that very moment...

"Well... that was a bit awkward, wasn't it?"

[ I can't help but feel the need the need to throw this photo up as well. This was the first one we took - but we felt it looked a little too 'cuddly'. In hindsight - it might be more fitting that way! ]

. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .

Cup # 18 - Matt Whitby - London, UK

Join Me.

Matt Whitby read the words again. It all seemed easy enough. Just send in your name and passport photo. Simple. But who was Matt joining? And what did joining even involve? Matt had no idea. But, if you want the truth of it, that didn't bother him too much...

For those of you familiar with the work of Danny Wallace, you'd know Matt as 'Joinee Whitby'. Yes, the 'Joinee Whitby'. The man who, in a way, would become the nemesis in a wonderful story about a collective of people dedicated to making old men happy - or, well, to making strangers in general happy through random acts of kindness. As nemesis, I don't mean to say that Matt Whitby was in any way opposed to making strangers (old men included) happy - in fact, Matt became so dedicated to the cause that Danny Wallace feared he was trying to usurp his power as the leader of the collective.

For Matt, that willingness to Join Danny Wallace all those years ago lead to many things. Perhaps most importantly, it lead him to join a movement of wonderful people, doing wonderful things for complete strangers. It lead to him having a roll in what would be come a best selling book in the United Kingdom. It even lead to an invite to attend the red carpet premiere of the film 'Yes Man' in Leicester Square. And as Matt stood just across the red carpet from Danny Wallace and Hollywood star Jim Carrey - he probably felt pretty good about saying yes to something that, at one time, seemed so strange.

I suppose Matt must have felt the same when a strange Canadian guy asked him if he was keen to meet for a cup of tea. Why not? No questions. No hesitation. Just a willingness to step back out on the ledge - to be part of something different.

I liked that about him. I suppose too, that the willingness to say yes is something that everyone who has joined me for tea so far has shared. We are a different bunch, aren't we?

Much like my cup of tea with Mark J. Winter, it was through Danny Wallace himself that I came into contact with Matt Whitby. Taking notice of a tweet sent by Matt in regards to an upcoming road trip from Los Angeles to New York - I felt the need to interject. Not necessarily with my quest to 100 cups in mind however - I suppose I figured that since I have done that drive before, I might be have been able to offer Matt some suggestions on what stops are worth making. The same willingness that lead to Matt getting tangled up in a strange and wonderful adventure took hold of me that day. I saw an opportunity to reach out to someone, to offer my thoughts in the hope that it may be of some use.

It was nearing 12:00 on Tuesday as I approached Chancery Lane Station. I would be meeting Matt Whitby for tea in just a few minutes. After a quick phone call, and an awkward wave from the opposite side of the road, Matt and I settled in at Cafe Nero, ready to let the conversation take us wherever it wished. Of course, I gave Matt my thoughts on his upcoming road trip and offered to do my best to get in touch with some friends who might lend him a couch or some floor space for a night or two along the way. It's funny how, when you take the time to talk to someone, you realize just how much you have to offer them. Whether preforming random acts of kindness for strangers, or offering them the possibility of a floor to sleep on in a foreign country - we all have the ability to affect each other lives. And it all begins with that willingness to say yes.

It seems to me that Matt lives each day of his life with that willingness in mind. Often times, it becomes easier to create our reality - to say no to opportunities in an effort to remain in control. But, I can't help but feel that it's those moments where we let go of control, that true growth happens. It's those experiences that you never thought you'd have that truly mould the person you are, and the person you will become. I know this to be true. I think Matt Whitby knows this to be true. And maybe, just maybe, by joining me for a cup of tea, 98 other people might come to believe in this notion as well.

Ch-ch-ch-changes.

2011-03-11T05:22:00.000-08:00

Over the noise of the antique restoration shop, Warren could hear the radio faintly in the background. I'm sure that, by now, you can guess what he heard. Much like it did for Jeremy Staples, my story – the quest to meet 100 stranger for 100 cups of tea – struck a chord in him. Enough, anyway, that he had a look at this website and decided to send me an email.

We met up a few short weeks later at a place called 'The Three Monkeys' in Brisbane's West End – a cafe that I have frequented when in Brisbane, since my first visit there in late 2009.

I wasn't too sure what to expect in meeting Warren. He is married with children (his wife, Amanda joined us in fact!), which would certainly put him in a different stage in life to most of the people I had met so far (being that the majority are in their early twenties and unmarried) – but I guess for me, one of the most important aspects of all of this is to suspend judgement. The less likely I would be to ever associate with a particular person by chance or natural circumstance, the more rewarding the meeting tends to be. In meeting strangers for tea, I guess I am hoping to prove to myself, and hoping to prove to all of you as well (if I can), that any person has the potential to mean something to you. That any person you pass on the street, given some time and a little bit of conversation, has the potential to be a friend – perhaps even more. That, as humans, we all have something in common, something to share with each other.

One thing I did know about Warren, as he touched on in his initial email, was that he spent some time in pursuit of a career as a professional musician – as one third of the rather popular Brisbane hip-hop group, 'The Coalition Crew'. Warren has since moved on to other endeavours, for personal and musical reasons, but like me, he had dedicated a large part of his adult life to creating music and sharing that music with others in the hope that it would one day translate into some form of a financially viable career. It's harder to realize this reality than most people think... And you can trust me when I tell you that, because I tried to do the same for the better part of 5 years. Could Warren or I have experienced more success by sticking with it another year or two? Perhaps. But as we both learned in our own ways, sometimes you are just ready to move on to something new – something different.

My conversation with Warren and Amanda got me thinking a lot more about just that – change. Whether forced, or a product of natural progression – change is one experience that every human being in this world can relate to. We go through it ourselves, physically and mentally as we age and grow. We observe it in the world around us. We embrace it each and every day, often without even thinking about it. But for some reason, when it come to the wilful act of making changes, especially ones of a personal nature, the vast majority of us are absolutely terrified of it. I know I was – and I don't want to put words into Warren's mouth, but I suspect he may have been too. For many years, as I pursued a career as a musician – it began to feel like being a musician was all I knew how to do. I had no fallback career options, no girlfriend (at the time), no university education – and so a kept on with it, feeling like I had no other option but to succeed at the one thing I wanted most in the world.

But then things began to change – and while it took me some time to admit it to myself, I realized that living in a van and touring the world, as amazing as it was while I was able to do it, was no longer what I desired to do for the rest of my life. I wanted more than life in a 15 passenger Chevrolet Van could offer me.

Funny too, because if I am honest with you, I was never quite able to admit that to myself or the rest of the band. Our demise was more natural than forced. Our personal circumstances began to change during our time off from tour, and rolling with those changes, we soon came to realize that to continue in our pursuit would no longer be as satisfying as it once was. And with that, we moved on to new things.

But that change happened to be exactly what I needed. That change gave me the time to pursue new opportunities, and created a whirlwind of events that have all, in some way or another, played a small roll in taking me to Brisbane, Australia. Those changes led to a move to London, England; they led a period of discontent with the social state of the world I found myself living in; they led Stefan and I to a possible solution in having tea with strangers; and as the snowball continued on it's downhill roll, I landed myself on the radio in Brisbane, Australia.

The changes in Warren's life took him from the pursuit of Hip-Hop affluence through musical creation, back to university to learn Japanese with the plan to become a translator of literature; they lead to a job in an antiques restoration shop; they led him to tune in to 4ZZZ radio on Friday mornings while he worked; and while saws and belt sanders buzzed, those changes lead Warren to listen to the story of this silly Canadian guy on a quest to meet 100 strangers for 100 cups of tea.

I stared into my nearly empty bowl of chai. It was getting late, and I knew we would have to get going soon. They may not have known it then, but our conversation, as ordinary is it may have seemed to someone seated close to us with a wandering ear – it send me on quite the journey of introspection. As daunting as my quest to meet 100 strangers for tea can sometimes seem, and as difficult as it can sometimes be to identify exactly what events, experiences, and conversations can truly change your life – I left the Three Monkeys that night with smile on my face. In talking to Warren and Amanda that night, I had realized that life isn't about picking out the events, experiences, and conversations that change your life – it's about accepting the fact that they all do – each and every one of them.

Does that mean that I already know the answer to the question that this journey seeks to answer?

I suppose it does.

But does that mean I'm going to stop having tea with strangers?

Not a chance.